Stolen Magic

That day...it was long. Longer than I thought a day could last, being twenty-four hours and all. I smile to think about how it started.

Father wakes up way before I even think of opening my eyes and starts brewing his morning coffee, checks our small garden, then- much to my displeasure- wakes me up. And he does this in the most annoying way...jumping on my bed. Yeah, hes a bit of a kid inside. but so was I.

"Come on then! You can't hide your face in bed all day, Quinn." he chuckles.

I was originally named after a boy- even though he knew it was a girl, curse him!- but in all honesty I don't really mind my name. It was from him and I loved my father, more than anything. Quinn Devore. I even looked somewhat like a boy; shoulder length hair, gray eyes, a scrawny form. I really didn't have a girlish figure, even at fifteen. Which I was thankful, I really didn't like guys and for that my father was thankful. He didn't want to have the 'growing up' talk, and quite frankly neither did I.

"Oh yes I can!" I say warning him and diving deeper under my pillows.

Still he jumps, annoying me to no end and the last attempts at sleep were made impossible by his excessive bouncing. And that's when I sat up and gave him my death glare, which he returned. We didn't stay like that for long though as I was the first to burst into giggles. He let out his laugh. A laugh I loved to hear every morning; a strong, bright, and just plain joyful laugh.

Suddenly I was surprised by him jumping off the bed and dragging me by my arms, "I feel like dancing today, Quinny" he said to me taking my hands.

"Are you sure? There isn't any music." I said, still smiling. No music didn't stop him,

"Its in my head! I can hear it now..." And father started humming while dancing and fixing my frame by holding our arms up.

I couldn't help but smile, his ecstatic energy was always so humorous. I remember this one time he took me out on our boat- at five in the morning- and forgot the oars in his excitement, we had to swim back. Another time- don't as me how- but he mistook a duck for a shark fin.

"Coffee!" Father stopped suddenly.

"What?" I watch confused as he dashes out of the room, down the hall, and lastly down the stairs.

I mutter to myself about his strangeness and get ready.

When I finally got to the kitchen he was sitting at the table, cup in one hand and a half folded paper in the other. As I went for the cereal and sat down I couldn't help but take the time to study Father in this almost rare calm demeanor. His untamed hair poked out at funny angles, his shirt was misbuttoned, and his face was scruffy. He always reminded me of a stray dog; one you could count on, love, and was more fun then a pure fluffy thing you got from pet stores.

"What?" Father asked over his cup.

"Nothing" I smiled and went back to eating my breakfast. It was times like these we sat in comfortable silence. I knew he would have to leave soon and I would miss him but I would find things to occupy myself. I worried about him though. I never truly knew where he went all day.

The light started shining brighter though the window spraying a friendly pattern of sunshine on the table.

I rested my head on my palms and waited, I counted in my head starting at eighty-two. That was the usual time it took for the sun to fully wake up.

"Dad?" I pipped up stopping at sixty-three.

"hmmm?" He responded not taking his eyes of his paper.

"Since when do you read German?" I pointed out, as the paper was in fact a different language.

Father pried his eyes away from the paper, "I don't"

This got me to laugh. He wasn't actually reading it!

"Whats so funny?" He asked with a confused expression. That just made me laugh harder. After a moment I covered my mouth and composed myself. Father smiled at me and held out his arms, "Come here, little flower." Said with a fake German accent. Still I let him wrap his arms around me in a hug and rest his head on mine.

I sighed content, days like these were perfect.

"Tell me about Mum," And I ruined a perfect moment. But I knew it might be my only chance in awhile. You see he didn't like talking about her, he got upset and he would stay frozen at our living room window looking for something. I knew it had something to do with her- I never met her- but I assumed she was dead or gone. Maybe that's why he was such a funny person. He had to much love in his heart.

He sighed and for a long time he didn't speak. For a moment I thought he was going to stay like this forever then he said, lost in his thoughts and far away, "She was beautiful..a real blue jay." I felt like I was witnessing something as he only ever used his 'blue jay' term for things- or people in this case- truly special.

"And small...A fragile thing but she had a lions heart..."

I smiled, still snuggled into him preparing for the big question.

"Did she love me?"

At this Fathers arms tightened around me and he kissed the top of my head, "No buddy loves you more than I, sweetheart" and I smiled.

"Remember that." He smiled down at me. I was short compared to him- probably from my mother!

"You realize its eight-fifty-four?" I tell him, knowing the numbers had gone down to zero.

"Oh!" He leaped up and dashed- once again- out of the room to get his jacket while I got his hat from the hall way shelf and handed it to him on his way out.

"Be careful!" I told him.

Father took the time to hug me, "Don't worry, Il be back before you know it." And smiled at me, one last time, "Il tell you a story when I get back!" He said as an after thought.